


Non-Euclidean Rationale and Gino's Pastry

by iimpavid, It_MightBe_Love



Series: the batmom multiverse [4]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Halloween, Holidays, Mathematics, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimpavid/pseuds/iimpavid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/It_MightBe_Love/pseuds/It_MightBe_Love
Summary: Jason says to Hector, gesturing with the cookie while he talks,  “You realize that I don’t know the first thing about teaching anybody anything, right? Like, you’re what, in middle school? You don’t need to know how to divide by zero or that pi is useless, okay, that’ll just fuck you up and piss your teacher off, then where'll you be?”
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/OFC, Jason Todd/OFC
Series: the batmom multiverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1045682
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of a fic I wrote years ago. Serenville over on tumblr wanted to see more of our Jason Todd, so here's an unbeta'd bit of shenanigans.

Jason will be among the first to argue that he’s perfectly sane—at least by the legal definitions. He knows right from wrong, is aware that according to most laws vigilantism is illegal, doubly so when you introduce murder, he doesn’t labor under the delusion that some higher power is guiding the sights of his gun and making him squeeze the trigger... But sometimes he doubts himself. Like now. Waiting in broad daylight across from some dive bar that doesn’t have enough business to be open but, inexplicably, is. He’s settled into a bright simmer somewhere between thrilled, hungry, and enraged.

It’s always fun to stalk stalkers. They have this bizarre idea that somehow they’re at the top of the food chain, that their victims not noticing them gives them makes them immune to the same treatment. If Jason were the patient type he’d draw this out more, drop hints over the course of weeks, let the terror settle in.

But Morris Gardner has murdered three women already before Jason caught up with him and Jason’s _itching_ to kill the guy. They keep him up at night. Melody Amherst. Sandra Clare. Kylie Montag. They all looked like ex who found herself floating in the river off Cape Carmine when she tried to break up with him. The same curling dark hair and brilliant green eyes, the stardust of freckles across their noses. It would be fitting to strangle Gardner but it’s so much more immediate, more satisfying to shoot him and—

There he goes, slinking out of the bar in a shirt that’s stained with sweat at the pits and collar because of course some filth can’t be bothered with dry cleaning. Just like that Jason’s out of his head and in his skin, alive and buzzing. 

Gardner heads straight across the street without looking up, not quite drunk just yet but close enough to be comfortable; not paying attention to his surroundings. He heads straight into Jason’s alley and Jason picks himself up off the ground to stumble along after, a matching drunk for the sake of appearances, pulling on his cowl as he goes.

Gardner tries to run when he finally glances back and realizes the magnitude of his situation, goes clambering up the wooden fence at the end of the alley. Jason lets him get to the curled barbed wire guarding the top and shoves him into it before dragging him back down, razors and splinters making his point for him.

“No situational awareness,” he scolds, clicking his tongue in Gardner’s ear while keeping him shoved up against the fence with a hand tight on the back of his neck. “What am I gonna do with you?” 

It’s a little like Christmas. It’s only natural to want to do a little decorating—but given that he’s got a murderer to work with instead of a tree he has to get a little creative with the blood and bruises and broken bones.

Most of them repent in the end and it sucks for them that Jason isn’t about absolution. 

Gardner does the same, lots of “Please, I’ll give you anything,” and “I’m so sorry I’ll stop, I’ll do anything” and other undefined platitudes that do nothing for him. Roughing him up a little, breaking his jaw, makes Jason feel a little better—better than what, he’s not exactly sure.

“Oh, Morris,” he says it with pity he doesn’t feel, “are you _so sorry_.”

The stream of babble cuts into a, “Yes!”

Jason steps back, lets him go. The poor sap’s too rattled to do much more than wet himself. “Huh, that’s weird. ‘Cause I’m not.” And shoots him.

* * *

Jackie Escobar isn't dumb enough to think she'd have made it out if the Narrows as a kid. She's smart yeah, but a lot of kids are. She was lucky sure, having parents who were really there. Who cared. Who tried. Until dad dropped dead of a heart attack and suddenly mom was nowhere to be found. But Jackie was a responsible fourteen. She wanted to get out of the bad side of town. Wanted to be something. A writer, mathematician, a doctor. She didn't know at fourteen and honestly who does? She had a part time job at Gino's Pastry because it meant she had pocket money to buy school supplies and could lessen the load on her parents. Then suddenly CPS was saying they were going to split them up and look, Jackie knows what happens to the kids who end up at Pinkney's Orphanage. She made a decision and that was to step up.

Technically she hasn't earned her GED by eighteen, but she's legally emancipated, has been for almost four years, and she works sixty plus hour weeks. A girl can be forgiven a lotta things.

But Hector is going into high school next year and she is damned well gonna see him at that fancy charter school if it kills her, and Eddie has his sights set on the swanky charter elementary school in Midtown because he wants to be Picasso and Marco has already tested out of three grades and she thinks she could manage a scholarship for him to the technical school in the business district and between the three of them Jackie knows she can manage it somehow, she just has to pick up a few more hours at the Pastry and Gino ain't complaining because it means he can do less.

Sleep is for the weak anyway and Jackie might never make it out of this shitty part of town, but her baby brothers sure as hell will.

She isn't mom and she really isn't dad, and she doesn't know what she'd have wanted to be when she grew up, but she knows statistics and she knows she has to make sure her brothers understand the importance of a college education, and money but that they also know they're loved and supported, her dreams can wait. She doesn't know what they are, but it's okay because she DOES love the bakery, she loves baking and making people smile. She likes feeding people and taking care of them, so it isn't so bad. 

* * *

Hector Escobar follows Jason home one day because his motorcycle? Is made of awesome.

And, well, at least the kid can recognize good taste. Mounting the stoop of his building, Jason says over his shoulder, "So are you lost or what, kid?" He's hoping for the former but younger kids have attempted grand theft auto-- Jason should know.

Hector is torn between following the guy up his stoop, (his sister in the back of his mind shouting a blue streak that’d make dad proud, god she sounds just like him. Total worrier), and staying on the street to ogle the motorcycle. It totally has some seriously illegal mods, Hector wants to know who did the work. “Or what.” He says, totally starstruck. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Or however that saying goes. “Your bike, man it is awesome!”

"You followed me halfway through the city to compliment my bike? I'm flattered." And impressed. Slightly. He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to step down off the stoop. "Where's your mom? Call me crazy but this ain't exactly the best town to be followin’ strangers home in, especially when the sun's goin' down."

“One, yes. Two, my mom bailed like four years ago, three, I _live_ here. Well.. not _here_ here-“ He gestures expansively at the building, “Here is probably condemned. My here is…” He squints, “Like five blocks east.”

"Three answers for two questions that's one helluva deal-- you shouldn't be so generous." Jason shoves his hands into his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them. Gomez and Morticia will be getting hungry-- if they get out of their cage again it'll be a crapshoot finding them before the alleycats do. "Well. Since we're here-- what can I do for you? Other than politely not notice you drooling over Cecelia or insulting my humble abode, of course."

Hector glances over startled and then he beams. He’s missing his two front top teeth, “Oh man! So, those mods on your muffler. Cannot possibly be legal--“ and he squats tugging his pants legs up a little because if they get dirty Jacky will kill him, “It’s a beast dude. Like—“ He doesn’t touch it, he can feel the heat coming off of it, “I like engines. My sister says if I do good in school this semester I can take some classes at the rec center. Which is hard yanno? Math is the pits, and Jacky tries? She gets numbers, and words. Me? I got parts. ‘cept my baby brother. Marco could fix anything with a computer in it. It’s wild.” He whistles, “Oh dude, you took the choke off this, whatsits top speed? Is this thing street legal?”

Jason snorts, "What's legal? Anything illegal's only illegal if you get caught." Between the lisp and unbridled enthusiasm-- he's falling for it hook, line, and sinker but really it's not like he can't handle any eventuality. "Your sister sounds like she knows what she's talking about. I mean, yeah, the parts matter but the numbers're where it's at if you wanna, I dunno, alter those parts 'cause you reverse engineered military-grade stealth tech from observation to reduce friction, increase acceleration, and maintain a certain level of... subtlety. Can't do that shit without calculus. Not easy anyway." So maybe he can’t help showing off a little. Sue him. Who’s the kid gonna tell, anyway?

Hector might have turned that starry eyed look onto Jason. He stands, scrubs his hands on his pants and holds one out, “Hector Escobar. Can I convince you to tutor me?” He lets his eyes go wide, “I can’t pay you but I bet my sister’d keep you in cupcakes and baked goods for as long as you put up with me. She pretty much runs Gino’s Pastry these days since Gino had that hip replacement and can’t lift the flour.”

"Oh, will she?" He smiles, it's a ghostly thing but it hangs around his eyes long enough, and shakes Hector's hand. If ever there was a pure soul in Gotham this kid's gotta be it. Which makes the next bit that much harder. "The name's Jason, it's nice to meet you. You're a good kid askin', but take it from me, you're better off gettin’ tutored in school, Hector. This ain't exactly a good place for kids to be comin' and goin'. And I'm not exactly the tutor type." 

Hector snorted, “Man, Jackie’s like—“ he made big hands, “I’d take THE Batman, over Jackie mad any day.” he nods seriously, “She has the Voice. Like… that voice that says ‘Im not mad, just real disappointed but I’m going to love you anyway because I know you tried’ — even when you didn't really try? And then you just feel even worse and end up trying to do the dishes only you break the dishwasher and when you try to fix it you start a TINY electrical fire.” He blinked, “Not that… that’s ever happened. You know.” He scuffed his shoe on the concrete, “Man, I go to school at PS141. In the Narrows. Doesn’t really get much worse. S’why Jackie makes me get tutored at the rec center, because I wanna be a mechanic and I gotta have school for that, but you should come by Gino’s anyhow because when I tell Jackie why I’m late she’ll think I’m lyin’ and won’t let me have cookies for a week and if you come to Gino’s she’ll have to give me cookies.”

Honestly the Batman joke right out of the gate is what gets him. He starts laughing, bubbling up into a laugh that's a little too hard-- poor Hector doesn't know what's up, is probably regretting the life choices that led him to this point. Hanging out with a crazy guy talking about physics. Whoops. 

"Alright, alright, relax, you've convinced me-- I'll walk you to Gino's. Then we can ask Jackie how she feels about this scheme-- the Narrows's no good place for gettin' much of anywhere, not that hanging around me's gonna do ya much better but your sister can be the judge of that. Worst case scenario you still get cookies. Sound good?"

Hector looks about as pleased as pumpkin pie to get the guy laughing. It’s a nice laugh, a little edgy but good. Like he means it. Like his dad used to laugh. Like he was making a point but liked it still anyway. Hector grins, “Yes! And you’ll get cookies too. Honest! Jackie’s the best baker, I mean, I know a coupla the uniforms from GCPD talk about her coffee, but she learned that from dad. Her baking is outta this world. I betcha she convinces Gino to let her take over for him completely and then it’ll be Jackie’s Pastry. Or somethin’.” He shrugged, “It’s this way-“ he pointed.

Jason turns east, gestures for Hector to lead the way, "Lay on MacDuff! The fate of Scotland herself rests on Jackie's magical baking." There's nothing in this world quite so endearing as a kid missing two front teeth smiling. Jason's an asshole but he's not completely heartless. Gomez and Morticia are smart rats, can fend for themselves a couple more hours. "GCPD's got an eye out for you guys, huh?"

Hector immediately sets out, trotting down the sidewalk, hands hooked in his backpack straps, “I didn’t say magic. Magic doesn’t exist, but if it did, it’d totally be Jackie’s baking. She’s the best.” He sniffed, rubbed his wrist over his nose, “I mean, probably on account of her coffee. Paulie’s Diner pretty much stopped making coffee when Jackie started making it at Gino’s.” 

Like all kids, he’s probably grossly exaggerating. But Hector’s of the firm belief his sister could be Wonder Woman, in terms of her awesomeness. It takes about twenty minutes to walk the five blocks to Gino’s and it’s already started getting dark. 

Hector can see Jackie standing outside chatting with one of the couriers who works uptown, her hair’s twisted up in a bun and there’s flour dusting her pants and- she sees him and she calls out a sharp phrase in Spanish that has Hector blanching, “I’m sorry Jackie! I got distracted!” 

“Distracted? Please tell me you weren’t followin’ people home again-“ when she spies Hector’s new friend and - “If you’re recruitin’ for gangs, you’re outta luck. Hector ain’t gonna be anybody’s errand boy or drug runner. I will ship you off-“ She’s turned back to Hector, “To that military school in Virginia you even think about runnin’ with some gang, do you hear me Hector Ramirez Escobar. I will tan your hide and ship you off and-“ 

“Jackie! Jacqueline! I promise I’m not runnin’ a gang! He has a motorcycle! It was cool, I got distracted.” Jackie is 5’4” if she’s an inch. Hector might be half hiding behind Jason.

"Hey, hey, that's not what this is about--" 

If the family resemblance didn't give Jackie away the motherly tirade would have done the trick for sure. Still he has to tamp down on his satisfaction in knowing he's actually achieved looking like the kind of guy you don't want your kids-- or your kid siblings-- hanging around with. He half turns toward Hector, who's retreated behind him. "I mean, Hector did follow me home but not 'cause I wanted him to. He had some questions about my engine set up and wanted me to walk him back here so you'd know he wasn't up to shady shit when he was supposed to be home. Nothin' bad like that."

Jackie, once she gets started, can really go. Hector shrugs at Jason, but Jason seems to have stemmed that a bit. 

“ _Language_!” She says it without thinking, “I got enough trouble from him runnin’ around with hoodlums.” She narrows her eyes, “So you thought what? You’d be a nice guy?” The way she says it makes it sound like she’s leery of it. 

“Jackieeee--” Hector whines, loudly, “C’mon, it’s the truth, he has a really sweet setup. I’m tryna convince him to tutor me in math since he seems to know what's up an’ now you’re gonna scare him away! How’m I supposed to get smart if you go all scary every time I find some--” 

Jackie snorts, “Tutor… Hector-“ She covers her eyes with her hand, “Okay. Get inside shortpants. I’m closing tonight so Lisa is watching Eddie, Marco will be here soon he had band after school.” 

She eyed Jason, “You too hun, if my kid brother’s following you home you’re probably gonna get stuck with him more now. He’s like a dog with a bone once he gets an idea.”

Jason exchanges a look with Hector. It’s been _years_ since the last time someone scolded him for cussing-- and even then Alfred hadn’t been all that serious. What else would did anyone expect, dragging a twelve-year-old to a white tie affair? Cummerbunds fucking itch and should be illegal.

Hector seems torn between rallying behind his new friend, who seems just as easily cowed by his sister as half the block, and maybe leaping out to hug her when she tells them to both get inside, Hector knows from experience to not dawdle. He books it into the pastry shop.

“Yes ma’am,” Jason tells Jackie, a little stunned. Sometimes that’s the only response to a situation-- Jackie’s a head shorter than him and yeah he might maybe could pick her up with one arm if he tried but he doesn’t want to risk it. She’s not the kind of girl a guy wants to irritate. And in that same spirit of politeness he smiles at her, “My name’s Jason, by the way. I’ve, uh, heard some really great things about your baking the last half hour or so... it's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Escobar.” 

Jackie eyes Jason like someone might inspect a car. Looking for possible engine trouble. " _Jackie_. I'm gonna go with Hector's run his mouth like a boat motor in the walk over." She sounds fond. They get that from their dad. The talkativeness. It's good to know it's just as disarming on her thirteen year old brother as it had been on their dad though. 

* * *

The interior of Gino’s is smaller than the façade suggests, the display case running lengthwise down the right and half a dozen small tables with matching easy-to-clean chairs scattered unevenly among them. The walls are a soft robin’s egg sort of color that makes it seem less like it’s crammed into the middle of Gotham. It’s warm. The sweet, heady smell of flour and-- cinnamon buns, if Jason had to guess, some of them with raisins for some unholy reason. He’d take his jacket off and make himself right at home if the shoulder holster under it weren’t likely to cause problems. But the Escobars seem like the sort of people who don’t deal with vigilante justice and firearms on a daily basis. 

“You weren’t kidding,” he tells Hector, “my mouth’s waterin’ just smellin’-- I’m gonna hafta resist buyin’ the whole place.”

Inside Gino's Hector nods seriously at Jason, "I told you." Hector's pretty sure the guy is a cop. Judging from how he carries himself and the way he said he was gonna walk Hector home. He wonders if Jackie suspects. Paulie's is at their dinner rush so there are a coupla red and blues outside of it, a few uniforms inside Gino's waiting for coffee and they greet Jackie warmly.

Jackie buses back behind the long counter to start pouring coffee, "You two gimme a minute to handle these customers and I'll get you hot cocoa. It's freezin' outside tonight."

Hector grabs Jason by the hand and drags him to a table in the back corner. There's a covered plate with cookies in it, a smiley face drawn in sharpie on the tinfoil. Jackie's voice rises over the din- "Only one Hector! I'm making chilaquiles for dinner!"

“She’s always like that, huh,” he says to Hector, sitting down with the smiling plate of cookies. If he takes one for himself, well, it’s just because they’re there and he ends up distracted because he’s being inundated by the most delicious cookie flavor he’s ever been exposed to. No snickerdoodles will ever compare. 

“Damn, that’s good.” 

And like some ridiculous faerie tale now that he’s taken a bite he’s obligated to stay for hot cocoa, too even though most of him? Wants to cut and run, close up shop, high tail it up to the place he’s got in West Coventry. Maybe not come back this way for a while. Like until this kid’s in high school and cares a lot less about illegal engine construction. 

That makes the snickerdoodles taste a little less amazing.

Hector nods morosely, but gets a cookie for himself as well, kicking his feet happily. They don't have much, but Gino's is one of the few businesses in Gotham that does brisk, legal business and Jackie works sixty hour weeks to make sure her brothers are fed and clothed. He can afford to be charitable about getting stuck here for a few more hours. He digs his homework out of his backpack and frowns at Jason.

"Yeah. She means well, she's a good sister." He says, and doesn't say that Jackie dropped out of high school when she was a freshman so she could pick up more hours at Gino's. Or that she figured out how to emancipate herself legally so she could keep her brothers together. Or that Hector doesn't give her lip because she's making sure he and Marco can explore the hobbies they like at the sacrifice of her own education.

Not that Jackie sees it that way: she likes working at Gino's.

Jason says to Hector, gesturing with the cookie while he talks, “You realize that I don’t know the first thing about teaching anybody anything, right? Like, you’re what, in middle school? You don’t need to know how to divide by zero or that pi is useless, okay, that’ll just fuck you up and piss your teacher off, then where'll you be?” (As soon as he’s said it he realizes that probably wasn’t the route to take— half the appeal of everything outside of high school math was getting to tell people that technically, _technically_ , they were horribly wrong about everything they knew and understood about said math.)

His math textbook gets dumped out next to his notebook (it has Wonder Woman in the cover, he's still trying to convince Jackie to dress as her for Halloween)-- "Isn't that sorta the point though? And I mean I dunno if I wanna be a car mechanic. Don't they have guys who are mechanics who work on rocket ships too? Jackie says I gotta keep my options open."

It’s like the kid hasn’t heard a word he’s said. Looking between the textbook and the bright eyed kid who’s all but bouncing off the walls, he thinks maybe Hector just isn’t listening because he doesn’t want to accept “no”. 

Jason can relate.

“Yeah, I think NASA’s got at least a couple guys who keep the rocket engines going.” He pages through the textbook with its battered chipboard covers, printed with grainy, dull pictures that are fifteen years old. At least math doesn’t change that much. The examples will be irrelevant but the numbers, those are the same. He considers ripping out the pages in back where every other question is answered— but stops short because Hector might get in trouble for that. “Plus there’s the ones that build ‘em. It’s the government, see, they gotta have a different department for everything so the guys— or gals— who test ‘em are different too. You could do a lot with rocket engines.” 

He closes the textbook, slides it back to Hector. “Where do you wanna start? Pick something in here that looks neat. We can work backwards if we have to later.” 

Jackie is watching from the counter, chatting amicably with some of the special crimes task force. Rudy Allen has a kid's birthday coming up and he wants a special cake made. Apparently thirteen is a big number Jewish girls.

So she sees Hector's eyes go wide when Jason hands back the textbook and he flips it open-

Hector says-- "Ohman! You think I could get a job at NASA? I could take care of Jackie with a job like that--" He starts thumbing through the book. Hector's pretty okay at math honestly. It's the more complicated stuff that starts getting him. The stuff with letters and parabolas and stuff. The page he turns too has some scribbled notes in the margins and he opens his Wonder Woman notebook-- "I'm in eighth grade. The teachers in the high school are tryna talk Jackie into sending me to Gotham Central in midtown because they got a better education program and advanced classes. But that's a longer subway trip and she's freaked out about sending me on it." He shrugged, "I think she's waiting to see how I do this semester and this summer before she decides."

Hector has pencils with Wonder Woman on them as well, no shame. She's a boss. He holds one out to Jason, "Thanks for this. You won't regret it!"

“I have no idea what it takes to get a job at NASA so you’ll have to call them and ask or something but sure.” He’s in over his head. But he can feel Jackie watching and there’s more than enough cops around that he’s guaranteed a bored tail if he ditches Gino’s too suddenly. “Let’s see how this goes and if you get something out of it.”

And because he’s out of his depth and can’t help unleashing his inner poindexter, he stays. Clues Hector in on the dirty little secret of math— “No one likes writing equations or memorizing them, no one normal anyway, but they do it anyway so they can do the fun stuff. Like suffering through a mountain of dirty dishes for a trip to the circus with dad. That sorta thing.” 

“And, the thing with algebra is it’s not hard, you and I know that, but you have to slow down to do it until you get the hang of it. Which is a pain in the ass.” It feels a little cruel making Hector write out the steps between 3x+4 = 0 and x=-4/3 when Jason knows looking at the thing that the answer is -1.333…— and that the repeating is bullshit because it never actually gets to 1/3, it’s a number that infinitely approaches reality while never getting anywhere near being a complete third. Therefore any expression using them as a solution is fundamentally _wrong—_ and, well. He does it anyway, makes Hector write out the in-betweens of basic math that they both know how to do in an eye blink. He can't help saying, though, “Write the solution as a fraction.” The fraction, at least, is technically finite.

Hector keeps up. Sort of. Jackie's better at fractions. At numbers too-- they all are honestly. But Jackie does the math for baking. She prefers poetry and like Jane Austen. Hector scribbles as Jason talks and asks questions when he doesn't get it.

He doesn't notice how much time has passed until he suddenly really has to pee and Jackie's coming over with three mugs of hot cocoa for her break. He glances between Jackie and Jason, says, "Don't scare him off Jackie," and dashes for the bathroom before he pees himself.

Jackie blinks, she's tired, she's been up since three am, but she sets the coco down in the table and sits with a noise, "Well… that was convenient." She pushes the third mug toward Jason, "I can't afford to pay you much to tutor him," she twists, back popping in a series of loud cracks.

It’s not worth it to tell Hector that he isn’t afraid of Jackie— that’d open up the potential “I don’t actually want to be here” discussion and also it’d be a lie. A small one. He takes the mug of hot chocolate, doesn’t drink from it, just lets it warm his hands as he leans back in the creaky chair to give his back a break from hunching over the world’s most boring textbook.   
  
Jackie looks like she could sleep for three days straight— Jason knows that feeling well— she shouldn’t have to work so hard to scrape by. It’s a hell of a world. He tells her, “I wouldn’t take it if you tried to pay me. I’m not a tutor I just couldn’t tell him “no”, yanno? And believe me I’d get it if you didn’t want me hanging around your brother. Just puttin’ that out there.”

Jackie could sleep for three days. For a year. Instead she sips her cocoa and watches the guy her kid brother decided to follow around. He's got a scar on his cheek, couple on his neck. One bisecting an eyebrow, and a white bit in his hair. Those scars say somethin' seein' as he doesn't look much older than Jackie herself is. 

"Well that's good, my next option was baked goods. I make a mean cookie." She scrubs a hand over her face, "Considerin' you let my brother follow you home and you decided to roll with it instead of telling him to _amscray_ ? I'm slightly less inclined to believe you're a gangster." She yawns, jaw cracking and twists her neck, "Look, Hector's gonna do what he wants, but you got him interested in doing homework his teacher's keep calling me about him _not_ doing...so I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth here.”

“I don’t blame the kid: homework’s boring and he’s not gonna learn anything from it; the answers are in the back of the book.” Not the right thing to say. Nope. He takes a drink of the hot chocolate, spiced and rich and made with whole milk unlike most places he frequents around here. God gave the world a gift with Jackie Escobar’s hot chocolate. He’s doomed.

“But if you’re offering, I’d rather be paid in cookies,” he taps the foil half-covering the plate of snickerdoodles, “See if he gets anything outta me rambling at him about algebra. … When’s his next test?” That might have been a good place to start, tests, what’ll be on them— the necessary stuff of the school system. Jason has been out of the loop a while and talking to people like Jackie reminds him of that. “If he does better on it we can consider something, I dunno, longer term. What’d’ you think?”

Jackie shrugs like she doesn't disagree, "Not that Hector would. He hates when people give him the answers. Mostly. Unless it's some puzzle game. I think it's a control thing? I dunno-- but he's always been like that." Jackie kind of wants to put her head on the table. Sleep for a million years. 

Instead she drinks more of the hot chocolate and tries not to be flattered, "Man that was easy. You like snickerdoodle then?" She grins, easy, relaxing minutely, "He's got midterms coming up before Halloween. I got his class syllabus on the fridge at home. I'll get a copy to you. Seems as good a place to start as any."

“Yeah, yeah it is— that’d be great, thanks. You can email it to me?” 

Jackie nodded, "Yeah, I can email it to you." And wow- she is reevaluating her concern with this guy. He looks totally panicked at the prospect of tutoring a middle schooler. If she were a nicer person she'd give him an out. But she was terrified for a few minutes that Hector'd gone and gotten killed or worse. The guy can sweat it out for a bit.

This is happening. Jason’s tutoring a middle schooler in algebra. It’s the cookies that did it— they must be full of some kind of compliance-inducing drug that has zero effect on awareness or memory. “What’ll work for you guys? Like a few days a week Hector and me hang out here and work on whatever’s givin’ him trouble? I don’t really. I’m not a tutor. I’m flyin’ blind here.” 

"Tuesday and Thursdays work? Those're the days I close usually. Here works fine, I'll keep you in cookies. I got his last school report so that'll make it easier to figure out where he's struggling."

* * *

Jackie and Jason have something in common, not that they know it yet: neither one of them sleeps because of work. 

3 a.m. usually finds Jason skulking the Bowery, strolling through Robinson Park, or sometimes over in Somerset if the criminals get a little white collar. Bristol can take care of itself, though. He never bothers going that far north of Gotham.

There’s not a lot of reason for it—crime isn’t actually all that more common at night in this cesspool, not if you know where to look. But there’s something to be said for watching the sun come up from the roof of a skyscraper just after dropping a kingpin off of it. (If he’s developed a sort of … perching habit to watch said sunrises, well. Jason comes by it honestly.)

It all means he doesn’t get a lot of sleep. He doesn’t keep hours that approach regular, catching snatches of sleep on the train between boroughs, cat naps on nightclub fire escapes before they open, a few hours on top of the covers of a safehouse bed. 

But then he meets Hector Escobar and has to turn up every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:30 at Gino’s down in the Narrows. It’s a pain in his ass but he keeps doing it, week after week.

He’s on a tangent about triangles the afternoon Dick shows up.

“So, yeah, that’ll get you the area of a triangle if it’s flat, but what if space isn’t flat?” Jason has started carrying modeling clay, the kind you have to stick in an oven to dry out, for moments exactly like this, when he gets to (hopefully) change Hector’s view of the world. Non-Euclidean geometry has more applications than Lovecraftian horror. 

He says, “The earth ain’t flat, because gravity exists, right? Gravity bends space, all of it. Why should Euclid’s rules apply to anything other than fake, theoretical shapes? Gravity exists everywhere in the universe so it should curve everything. Watch.”

This is the exact moment Dick chooses to intrude on this happy little fiction, while Jason’s carving a perfect equilateral triangle onto a bright purple sphere-ish of clay before he skins off the triangle to show Hector it’s concave boundaries and the curved height of it. His hands keep working while he looks up, says at Dick like he’s surprised, “Well look what the cat dragged in.” Then back to Hector, “Pretend this is a hunk of a planet. Does this look Euclidian-- flat and straight and _normal_ \-- to you?” 

Dick is only heading into Gino's because Jason's been...shady lately. More at ease and also more closed off and Dick is worried he's backsliding. He's being a good big brother. And because Jason's bike has been outside Gino's every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:30 for the last month and a half. 

The coffee is good, but Gino isn't dealing illegal out of the kitchen so Dick needs to know if there's something going on that the bats need to know about.

He's in uniform today because there was some shindig ceremony and he hasn't changed back into plainclothes, badge shiny on his chest. Jason is sat at a table with a short, toothless hispanic kid molding purple clay into a ball and talking math.

Dick's pretty hard to throw. Consider him thrown. Everyone had been pretty sure Jason was hiding bodies. 

Hector plucks the triangle out of Jason's hands and says- "No-" and peels off a string of answers to the equation Jason's been stuck explaining to him for the last twenty minutes. It’s more physics than Hector technically needs but Jason has to keep himself interested somehow.

“Bingo. So _this_ equation,” he tells Hector and taps the one he’d written beside some nonsense about parabolas— shit he’ll have to connect this to parabolas, _fuck_ , _how will that work_ — “doesn’t actually apply in the real world because nothing is perfectly flat or straight ‘cause space is weird.”

He taps the pencil jackrabbit-quick on the tabletop, grabs some graph paper and traces the curved-edge triangle onto it. _Ignore Dick_ has become something of a life goal. “So we’re gonna make this into a set of parabolas,” he says, drawing lines out from each point with arrows on their ends to imply infinity and throws a numbered axis on top for good measure, “and put together the equations for ‘em.”

"How come you're so good at explaining this but my teacher's ain't?"

Jackie trots by the table with cocoa refills and a plate of maple scones, kisses Hector on the cheek and ruffles Jason's hair and says, "Because your teachers get paid crap, pancake. Now let Jason eat some. He looks like he ain't since this morning."

Jason laughs, “Nah, it’s ‘cause calculus is cooler than algebra and I’m not afraid to admit it,” then Jackie’s too nice for the world to deserve and he has to concede, “But yeah I only gotta teach you and not forty other kids at the same time. So I can get on your level no matter what we’re talking about. That makes me _seem_ better at it.”

Then she greets Dick with a friendly, "Officer. You want a coffee?"

Dick's brain might be overheating. 

"Little brother..." and nods at Jackie, "Yeah. Uh. Black. Two sugars. No cream."

Jason refuses to ruin the moment by laughing at him.

Jackie’s hot chocolate and her cooking are on the fast track to becoming his favorite things in this world. “You worry about me too much,” he tells her then burns his tongue on the cocoa. He chases the sharp heat sliding down his esophagus with a bite of scone. Not that it helps but he’s fucking hungry. It’s been… awhile since he actually had a meal.

Hector glances at the cop, back at Jason and then says, "Jackie! Are those fresh?!?" And tries to filch one from Jason's plate. 

“God this is good,” Jason says around the mouthful, “thanks, Jackie. You’re the best.” He slides his plate a little closer to Hector and hopes she won’t mind. 

Dick stares for another minute before he takes a seat at the table with Jason, and his… student? "Are you a math tutor?" He should stop being surprised by Jason. And one day he totally will be. Probably. 

"No, I’m a ballerina. It's sweet of you to show up for my recital."

He eyes what Jason is doing and says- "You aren't accounting for physics there-" he points and plucks Jason's pencil from him to scribble something underneath Jason's curved lines-- "There. I mean- obviously you aren't throwing a human body into the equation but-"

Jason deserves a medal, possibly the key to the city, because he doesn’t say a single vulgar thing about physics. “Bite me. This is algebra, not physics and Non-Euclidian geometry accounts for physics way more than high school geometry. If there was a human body involved in this purely theoretical hyperparabolic plane we’d have bigger things to worry about."

"Baby brother, the day you put on a pair of tights is the day I wear a tutu out on patrol." Double talk is hilarious, "But if it's just algebra--" he waves a hand and eyes the menu above the pastry case.

“Fifty bucks says you’ll get away with it if you do it,” Jason can’t quite resist saying it— maybe Dick’s off balance enough he’ll take the bet and then, oh then, there’ll be some truly wonderful blackmail.

Jackie waylays further conversation by depositing a coffee in Dick's hands and rolling her eyes.

"If I'd known you had siblings Jason, I wouldn't have accused you of being a gangster." She removes the empty cups from the table and says "Be careful, it's hot."

Dick's already sputtering over a burned tongue though and wheezing a little. 

Jackie's hard-pressed to feel bad. "Coffee's a buck-fifty."

Hector hides a smirk behind his pilfered scone, nudging Jason's knee with one sneaker covered foot.

Jason juggles the tangents like a pro, "I like looking dangerous-- it's what makes me so irresistible," He tells Jackie, smirking, and nudges Hector back. "Now where were we, before we were interrupted?"

Dick asks, "What's good here? Other than the coffee," which is phenomenal, now that his tongue doesn't hurt.

Hector glances up, "Everything's good." Before he turns his attention back to jason. "Okay but I gotta show my work-" he leans in muttering quietly, "There's a contest for a scholarship to the school I wanna go to- don't tell Jackie I'm doin' it though cause I wanna surprise her." He waggled his eyebrows, "I figure maybe if I get a scholarship to help cover costs, maybe she'll relax a little?" 

Hector cleared his throat then at a normal volume said, "So uh...walk me through how to do that-"

Dick's mind has been totally blown. He sends a group text to Bruce, Barbara, Tim and Cass and sneaks a subtle picture of Jason bent over the table with the kid.

Jason leans in over the stack of papers they’ve accumulated in front of Hector’s textbook and tells the kid, “As if I’d snitch on you, who d’you think I am? When’s the application due?” Then, louder for the benefit of the audience, “You just gotta go in order, right? And since we already have the solution with these points,” he circles the vertices of the triangle, “you just have to figure out what numbers they correspond to and plug them into an equation. Or in this case three equations. Wanna color-code them?” 

Dick smirks, "Only if you wear the tights baby bro-" 

Jason snorts. “I’m never wearin’ tights again— I did my time.” 

Dick waggles his eyebrows and leans around Jason to eye Hector, "Dick Grayson, I'd say I'm sorry you're stuck with this weirdo as your tutor, but he's pretty good at what he does, isn't he?" 

Hector shrugs at Dick, “He’s all right. I mean, sometimes he lets me take apart his bike so that’s pretty sweet,” but the way he says it, a little shy, speaks volumes more about how much he’s getting out of Jason tutoring him and Dick seems to pick up on it because he reaches over and ruffles Jason’s hair affectionately.

Hector squints at them, like he wants to ask but is refraining from it, glances between the two of them a moment, then across the bakery toward his sister who's currently engaged in a standoff with Mrs. Dunleavy, the cat lady who always pesters Jackie to make cat treats and sell them. Which she won't, because Jackie is allergic to cats and always ends up sneezing and wheezing whenever Mrs. Dunleavy comes in. 

Hector says to Jason, "It's due the first week of November. I managed to figure most of it out, but I gotta get an adult's signature and Jackie's my guardian yanno?"

Hector continues, "So-- I start here?" And grins, "Oh man, _yeah_. Color coding might help actually!"

“You askin’ me to sign it for you? Sure, I’ll do it.” He draws over their Non-Euclidean triangle with red, blue, and green felt tip pens, labels their points on the grid then surrenders the pens to Hector’s capable hands. “You know, you could give the “congratulations on your free money” letter to your sister for Christmas.” 

That perks him up, "Oh man! You mean it?!" Hector practically vibrates out of his seat.

Dick is stuck with how familiar Jason is with this kid. Enough he's offering to let him dismantle his bike and that's....

Dick's smile is a small thing. Happy, he reaches out and hooks an arm around Jason's shoulder and reels him in to kiss his temple loudly. "I'll get my scone and get outta your hair. Alfred wants you over for dinner this Friday. He's making your favorite." And if not, Dick will just ask Alfred to change the menu.

“Yeah I’ll hafta check my schedule and get back to you on that one, bro.”

Hector squirms gleefully, "Oh man... maybe I could? You'd havta be there though. She'd probably cry!"

That’s an invitation Jason doesn’t know what to do with. “Uh… If work’s not too crazy, we’ll see-- Now there you go, what’re the equations of these guys gonna turn out to be?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impulse control? Never met 'er.
> 
> Here, have a few snippets from the holidays in this same universe because Sereneville's so damn nice I can't help myself.
> 
> Unbeta'd and unfinished, as is our usual MO, so be nice.

Hector, Marco, and Eddie all stay in with a sitter but Jackie always ends up working Halloween because its also great for sales. Even if the clowns have taken over. Hector convinced her to dress up as Wonder Woman for Halloween. Remarkably- she hasn't gotten too terribly harassed over the course of the day. But Gino wants to stay open later for the GCPD crew working all night.

Jason really enjoys working on Halloween. This year he's dyed his forelock black and is galivanting around Gotham as Superboy. A guy doesn't have to be subtle in a city full of vigilantes and costumed maniacs but on Halloween that sort of shit is expected. And some years he dresses up as other """"heroes"""" for a lark-- getting their names in the papers for doing ridiculous things is the closest to festive pranking that he has time for.

All the clowns give Jason the urge to punch things. Everyone in a clown mask who thinks it's a good idea to either spook him or actually commit crimes in his presence regrets their life choices immediately thereafter. Consequences range from broken teeth and concussions to maiming and death. 

It's cathartic.

It's bound to be a late night and the only place in the Narrows-- unofficially it's become the Red Hood's borough the last few months-- brave enough to be open late is Gino's. As much as he'd like to pretend sleep is for the weak, on Halloween caffeine and sugar are necessary to see him through and he's forced to drop in on Jackie between clown bashings. It soothes something in him he didn't realize was keyed up to see the place buzzing with GCPD-- that's a first. But considering the creeps oozing up from every crevice in the city and that Jackie's dressed to kill but probably not armed. Well. 

He saunters up to the counter and smiles at Jackie, oblivious to the fact that there's a little blood spatter on his cheek from the last clown who thought it was a good night for muggings. "Got anything strong enough to wake the dead? 'Cause that's what I want."

Jackie could do without all the clowns. And if it weren’t for the fact Gino is letting her keep all the tips tonight, she'd be mad about missing Halloween with her brothers. But she and Hector cleared out the candy aisle at the CVS, and she made a huge casserole dish of enchiladas and honey and cinnamon empanadas, and the boys are marathoning Disney movies. (Scary movies, she isn't dumb) -- Jason saunters in dressed to kill with an S-curl and the Superman shield on his chest and she has to stifle a laugh. 

"Well _Superboy_ , as it happens I got just the thing." And she bustles to get him their largest dark roast and if she slips him a paper bag of snickerdoodle cookies it's only because she'd already had them set aside for him.

"You really do live up to the Wonder Woman name." But he doesn't guzzle down the coffee right away-- he's learned his lesson after losing enough tastebuds. 

He secrets a couple hundred dollar bills into the very middle of her tip jar, hidden by the ones and fives and countless nickels and dimes. Everyone should get something special on Halloween. Jason gets to fuck up some clowns, Jackie gets a killer tip, everyone goes home happy. He says, leaning over the bar with the comfort of someone who may as well live there, "You got any freaks lurkin’ around here tonight or is it just the usual suspects in blue?"

Jackie's waving over another order of coffee to go and a box of pastry to a uniform at the pick up counter so when she turns back to Jason she doesn't bother masking her snort of laughter- "Well there's this one guy- came in dressed like Superboy. But I think he's all right."

Dick decides to swing through because coffee and pastry, that’s just the kind of timing he has, and there's his babybro dressed like a freakin' alien and Jackie like Donna and Dick? Has no self-control. He whistles from the door, "Lookin' good Jackie." And eyeballs her legs appreciatively.

Jason smirks at her, "Just alright, huh? I guess I'll hafta try a little harder but unfortunately levitation's not my strong suit." In Jason's defense, he's a damn good-looking alien and he knows it. So's Jackie. But what does Dick think he's doing pointing it out? He tells Jackie in a stage whisper, "Don't mind my brother-- he tends to lose higher brain functioning around beautiful girls like yourself."

Jackie looks torn between blushing, and fleeing. It's a very deer in the headlights look. 

Dick leans on the counter, points at Jason-- "You ignore this knucklehead, I get smarter around pretty girls. Especially ones as talented at cookin' as you are." 

In that very moment, with Jackie lit up and a little bewildered in the sweetest possible way, it becomes Jason's life's mission to make Jackie blush-- Operation Ignore Dick can wait. "Okay, I gotta give you that one-- Jackie's cookies could bring peace to the Middle East."

Jackie clears her throat-- "I need to put another pot of coffee on." And turns to scarper back onto the kitchen to get fresh grounds. 

Dick whistles again. What? She gives good gam. "You look great in those boots!" he calls after her because he can't help himself and turns to Jason. 

"You got a bit a schmaltz-" he hands a napkin over and then thinks better of it and rubs at Jason's cheek himself, "Just there. That's better."

Of _course_ Dick just has to keep being himself and ruin the moment completely. Jason bats Dick's hand away with a disgusted noise, "Who d'you think you are? My mother?" Thank _fuck_ he didn't lick the it first.

Dick shrugs. "I may as well be. Do you only eat sweets and drink coffee? I oughta have Alfred call you and lecture you on the merits of eating green vegetables."

"You really do think you're my ma, don't ya? I'd suggest you see a shrink for the delusions but this ain't the city for it." He turns so his back is to the counter to keep an eye on the door while he drinks his coffee. The braver citizens have taken their kids uptown to do their trick-or-treating. The smart ones are staying in. What's left are the cops, incredibly stupid teenagers in costumes, a few genuine homicidal freaks, and the more festive scrapings that Gotham's underbelly has to offer. No wonder Gino's is open late-- anyone with half a mind to keep the peace is having a long night. 

The resettling is a good excuse not to make eye contact. This uptick in familial attention chafes, a not-quite skin crawl of imbalance. Jason’s out of his depth. "I'm pretty sure Alfred's got bigger things to worry about than makin’ sure I eat my leafy greens-- and so do you. What gives?"

Dick snorts, glances around and nods hello at a couple familiar faces. Turns his attention back to Jason and wonders how to explain he cares and his showing is to be obnoxious. That he's mad he didn't get more time or try harder, to be a better brother. It's dumb as hell but it is what it is. 

"I think Alfred'd do it just because I asked him, Jaybird." He grinned, "And what? I ain't allowed to worry about you?"

"No, you're not." It's not quite that Jason minds being worried over, more that it's too much work to figure out anything other than irritation in response. 

Dick yelps when Jackie takes that moment to set his coffee and another pastry box on the counter and says, "Considering how fast he goes through the tamales I send home with him, I'd say he eats worse than my kid brother. Or a typical kid brother, my brothers eat well.

He laughs when Jackie startles Dick. She doesn't even know that she deserves a medal for it-- ex-Robins aren't jumpy. "Oh, I see how it is, now you're both gangin' up on me. I expected this from him," he points at Dick, "but you, Jackie? I dunno if there are enough tamales in the world to console me."

Dick waggles his eyebrows at Jackie, "So what do I gotta do to get some tamales?"

Jackie blushes noticeably, "I made snickerdoodles just for you, Jason. I think you'll survive." 

"I dunno, sweetheart, it's a pretty serious wound," Jason teases, speaking louder to make up for the distance as she makes for the growing line of under-caffeinated cops. "We're talking _macaron_ levels of betrayal here!"

Then, to Dick, she says, " _He_ tutors Hector." That, and she likes feeding him.

"Ah-- so Jayce has the market cornered on your edible goods."

Jackie coughs and will be forever thankful at the crowd of uniforms who come bustling in noisily and take her attention. 

Jason is legally required to roll his eyes. Dick's innuendo is terrible and embarrassing and hopefully makes him look great in contrast. Jackie retreats to the register and Jason says, "Smooth move Ex-Lax."

Dick stares after her for a minute before he says, "We're not ganging up on you baby bro. We're showing our love." A pause, then, "Snickerdoodles? She makes you cookies hunh? I can be smooth. You wanna see how smooth I can be?"

He laughs, can't even be irritated that it's Dick making him laugh. "She ran from your terrible innuendo to work the register, bro, I've seen more than enough, trust me. But since I'm such a nice guy I'll let you see what you're missing out on," and offers him a cookie. 

Dick smirks, "Awh you know the ladies can't resist me. I'm polite and charming. Plus I got all the good lookin' genes." He waggles his eyebrows, "But this Superboy schtick works for ya Jaybird." He punches Jason's arm lightly, before reaching over to push a couple crumpled twenties into the tip jar, "You be good now citizen. Make sure you keep the streets safe." He waggled his eyebrows and collected his loot before pushing off from the counter.

"Hey Jackie, I think me an’ you should do coffee sometime." He blows a kiss at her as he backs out of the pastry amid wolfwhistles and catcalls from the other customers.

Jackie sniffs, turns to eye Jason and says, "He isn't as cute as he thinks he is."

"Don't ever tell him that, you'd break his heart." He finishes his cookie and sticks the one left in the bag in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. Leaving the pick up bar to hold itself up at long last he tells her, "Thanks, Jackie, for everything. Anything freakier than usual happens tonight, call me, alright?"

Jackie grins as Jason fetches up his treats and she holds out another paper bag- "Cheese and bacon. Don't tell anyone. Gotta make sure my boys keep their energy up for tonight." Jackie is also pretty sure Jason is a cop, "And I'd never tell you brother that to his face. My old man raised me better'n that. " she leaned her elbows on the counter, "Trust me, I see anything weird I'll call."

* * *

Jackie has a quinceanera dress she’s never gotten to wear, it’s a deep purple and it’s covered in rhinestones. Her father got it for a favor, it hangs in the back of the closet of the master bedroom in a garment bag. It’s tucked in the back next to all the dresses she hasn’t worn in years. The dresser with the mirror above it houses all her cosmetics. On her rare days off, she likes to sit in front of it and pretend she’s a movie star. She’ll do her hair and her makeup and then she’ll clean the apartment. Those are the days Hector takes Marco and Eddie to Robinson Park and let’s her have time alone. She gets it so rarely and Hector kind of gets how hard it must be having to take care of the three of them. She’s never complained, and Hector doesn’t think she ever would. Its why he and Marco try their best to pick up after themselves, why when Jackie comes home with computer parts for Marco, he always puts newspaper down when he takes things apart. Why when she brings Hector home new manuals on engines he keeps them tidily on the bookshelves she gets from the thrift store.

Their apartment, small as it is, is filled with books. Their father, Guillermo, liked books. Hector doesn’t remember as well as Jackie does, but Hector thinks their father was an engineer or something before he emigrated to America, to Gotham. His English wasn’t so great when he met their mom. They have pictures on the walls that Jackie maintains with a careful hand, and the fine china that Hector thinks was probably a wedding gift, gets taken down for Christmas and then lovingly wrapped back up and put away.

Their table is small, but after Jason comes into Hector’s life, there is always a spot for him at the table, he even has his own set of Tupperware because (and Hector thinks this is funny), his sister can’t help taking care of people. She’s like dad in that way. Eddie likes sitting in Jason’s lap at the table the afternoons he comes around to tutor Hector. Eddie drawing in his sketchbook, sometimes tugging Jason’s sleeve to get his attention and ask his opinion on a color choice. Well, insofar as Eddie is mostly nonverbal. 

So Dick turns up at Gino’s and grins, “Hey beautiful,” and Jackie is mostly used to the way Dick flirts with her, he’s handsome, but she isn’t on the market for another boy to take care of honestly and between her brothers and Jason she doesn’t want someone else to split her time. 

“Dick.” She’s already getting him coffee and a pastry. He likes bear claws.

“So, the family is throwing a New Year's Party, and you and your baby bros are invited.” 

Jackie is… sort of used to the way Jason’s brothers have decided she and hers are one of theirs. Though she’s only met Tim and Damian a handful of times. They’re both very serious, Damian’s about Marco’s age.

“New Year’s party?”

“Yeah, we throw it every year and hey, you’re basically family now.” He grins and Jackie laughs and waves off his money, “On the house this time Dick.”

He stuffs the bills plus a couple twenties, into the tip jar, “Cool. We’ll send a car for you guys.”

* * *

It comes out over their bimonthly patrol-and-beer night that the Escobars have been invited to the Wayne Enterprises New Year’s Charity Gala. Jason’s got no choice but to attend and in the meantime he does some requisite freaking out. “Dude, what the hell? Did you warn them that this isn’t a just-the-family, bring-a-casserole, ugly-sweater-party it’s a stuffy-suit and smiling-for-the-cameras party? Do they know about _Brucie_? I’m gonna sound like an asshole but fuck it— you gotta realize Jackie and the boys don’t have evening wear for this sorta thing. ” 

Dick looks nonplussed, across from them Tim is dealing cards, Dick says, "I mean... they gotta know who we are? You've known them for what? six months? We aren't exactly a subtle family."

Tim snorts, "I'm plenty subtle."

Dick rolls his eyes, "Yeah, like a brick to the face is subtle Mr. Brucie Junior."

Tim sniffs and starts dealing cards, " _You_ are just jealous Vicki Vale likes me better."

"She always pinches my ass!"

The long and short of it is that no, no one has told Jackie about Bruce. Which is probably for the best honestly, there's not really any way to warn someone about Bruce's public persona. 

Dick shrugs, "Alfred said he'd take care of the wardrobe stuff. Gotta admit, I'm looking' forward to seeing' her all dolled up like a society queen."

Tim rolls his eyes and goes to get them all more beer. "If he shoots you, I'm taking his side when he tells Alfred it was a mugging gone wrong."

“You’re my favorite brother,” Jason tells Tim. “Call.” And he lays out a royal flush. “Waitin’ on Alfred to fix her up doesn’t actually count as warning her, jackass.”

* * *

Stress about the future— near or distant— isn’t something Jason’s used to experiencing.

Finding his own penguin suit is a goddamn nightmare: he’s had it stuffed in the bottom of a steamer trunk for going on two years, and then he makes the mistake of trying it on. It has to be re-tailored to account for the weight he’s put on eating consistently between patrols which would be fine but making an appointment with a tailor… next year, if there is a next year, he’s gonna insist they do New Year’s at Jackie’s place. With ugly sweaters and casseroles and absolutely no wing collars or patent leather shoes in sight.

Making an appearance at Wayne Manor is a pain in Jason’s ass. Not to mention Jackie’s being chauffeured by Alfred and will know shortly that he’s a _Wayne_ and be subject to his whole family in one place plus the extended royalty of Bristol County. But fuck what if Jackie asks if he’s _that_ Jason Todd, what’s he gonna tell her? He hasn’t yet told Jackie that he’d pulled a Beatrix Kiddo, clawed his way out of his own grave screaming and choking on dirt— yeah, he’d had a lot less of Kiddo’s aplomb about the whole thing.

New Year's Eve, Jackie is all set to head down to the car waiting to pick them up when Alfred swans in. Alfred is... a butler. Apparently and Jackie is thrown for all of five minutes before, "I baked brownies?" The pastry box is sat on the kitchen table, Alfred smiles.

"Miss Escobar, I fear Master Grayson failed to reveal the exact nature of the Wayne Charity Gala." He has four garment bags. 

The dress costs more than...well the dress is more expensive that anything else Jackie owns. A deep, vibrant red, Audrey Hepburn collar and low back. Long sleeved-- it's very 30s and she loves it instantly and is instantly petrified she's going to get something on it because -- well--

"Wait-- _Wayne_ _Gala_?" She's letting Alfred style her hair, she feels almost like a princess, if a princess were a working girl with three brothers all sitting on the bed staring at her like they've never seen their sister dressed up before. Each looking even more uncomfortable in their fancy suits as the next. 

Alfred hums, "Yes, Master Todd, Master Grayson and young Master Drake all began as wards of Bruce Wayne before inevitably being adopted in some fashion or another. Master Drake is of course the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises."

Hector might choke on his spit on the bed.

Jackie's stomach sort of drops out at the bottom, "So Jason is a Wayne?"

"Quite, Miss. There, I suppose that will have to suffice with our limited time."

He sets a holly crown atop the piles of sleek black curls he's turned her hair into and smiles. Pleased.

Wayne Manor is in Bristol County. They've never been. It's all long drives and stately mansions and the Wayne Manor is the _largest_ , and as Eddie babbles in the backseat of the Rolls Royce, _also the oldest_. Eddie's on an architecture kick and this is the most Jackie can remember brother having talked in one sitting in... ever.

The ballroom is-- overwhelming, and her brothers only spend a few minutes before Alfred whisks them off to who knows where, long enough to get their photos taken by a number of professional photographers and then Jackie is left lurking at the edge of the dance floor, half panicked because she's never seen this many rich people in one place, let alone been part of the crowd.

She isn't one to feel like a fraud, she isn't ashamed of herself or her family, but she feels out of place all the same.

"Ah! Miss Escobar--" she turns to meet the gaze of Bruce Wayne and the panic cements itself, "Jason talks about you, I'm so glad to see you made it, and you look stunning. I imagine you've made quite a few ladies jealous in that shade of red. Dance with me!" 

And before she can protest or respond, he's sweeping her out onto the dance floor.

Dick spies this moments too late to stop it and tracks Jason down to say, "Don't panic. But Brucie found our girl."

All Jason can think is that it’s lucky he’s not the kind of guy who’s cursed with sweaty palms— the shitty red silk handkerchief hiding in his left pocket would be absolutely useless in the face of this kind of nightmare. He’s been well-trained. He doesn’t even flinch when the pin through his holly boutonniere-- why the hell Alfred had chosen holly his beyond him-- stabs him.

He grins at Dick and tells him through clenched teeth, “Of _course_ he has. Some superhero you are, standin’ by while a lady’s preyed on. Think she’s gonna be okay?” 

He’d kill to be a kid again and hiding in the kitchen with Alfred. It was the highlight of this kind of thing growing up, watching Alfred seamlessly orchestrate the flow of hors d’oeuvres, alcohol, musicians, speeches— from the outside, no one ever knew that most of the time things were falling apart behind the scenes. He reasons that, sure, he could stand there and let Bruce finish the waltz but Jason _likes_ Jackie. It’s no fun letting someone suffer when they’re actually worth his time.

He rolls his shoulders out and _breathes_ , bides his time until the elegant whirling of the Viennese waltz brings Jackie and Bruce his way.

Bruce has spent the entire first three minutes dancing, talking. Jackie tuned out after the first minute or so when she realized that he was talking to fill the air between them and make her less panicked. Bruce Wayne does vapid _really_ well, and if Jackie hadn’t spent her formative years as a workin’ girl, she’d have fallen for it. It’s too calculated a vapid banter to be anything but purposeful. It doesn’t change the fact that she is still downright petrified to even be dancing with Bruce Wayne, let alone--

“Mind if I cut in?” Jason doesn’t actually wait the requisite polite amount of time for the partner switch before he steps between them to take Jackie’s waist and hand. 

All of this within the space of a 3/4 measure without hardly breaking step with the other couples. 

“Sorry about that, Jackie. I… wasn’t sure how to warn you about. Well. This.” 

She greets him with a barely-concealed sigh of relief, she lets him sweep her away without missing a beat and says, “I can’t imagine there’s a way to spring on someone you’re the kid of Bruce Wayne. It doesn’t really fit into casual conversation so great.” She can’t quite be mad at him about it, honestly, because if she were the kid of a multi-billionaire, living in the East End, slumming it at a pastry shop… she’d probably keep that lowkey as well. “Honestly, I’m surprised _I_ didn’t figure it out. I’m pretty sure Hector had an aneurysm when Alfred said Tim was the CEO at Wayne Enterprises.” She brushed some lint off Jason’s shoulder, “You clean up good.”

Jason has the good grace to blush. “You can thank Alfred for that— white tie isn’t really my thing. You, though.” He hesitates, struck nearly shy— she’s put half the people in the room to shame with her Audrey Hepburn gown and the live holly crown and finally Alfred’s insistence on the holly boutonniere makes sense. “I gotta say Jackie you’re gonna be the talk of these society belles for weeks. Where’d you learn t’waltz? Does Gino give lessons on the sly?”

Jackie’s never seen Jason blush. It makes _her_ blush in response. The two of’em make one helluva pair.

“Well I’ll be sure to let Alfred have first pick of the brownies I made for tonight. _Family get together_ . Crap, I’m serving Dick burnt coffee for a month.” She won’t, because that’s sacrilegious, but she’ll think about it. She’ll think real hard about it. “My dad taught me t'dance. I was pretty good at it too, yanno? Not that it woulda made much difference in the end. I’m surprised I remember so much, but it ain’t exactly _hard_ once you catch the beat.”

She clears her throat, “And they can talk all they want. I’m pretty sure this dress costs more’n my monthly rent.”

“You made brownies? Shit, I wish we didn’t have to be _here_ , brownies sound great. Yanno, when I was a kid I hid in the kitchen with Alfred the whole night eating the party favors. What’s the weird French word for ‘em?” There’s a lift in half a minute and he counts down the time without thinking to warn Jackie, “Your dad taught you well. I still have to practice before these things— I’ve got two left feet. Alfred taught me to dance, all of us, really. Even Bruce, which is a real trip to think about.” 

Jackie laughs, lets him pull her into a lift and if she has to turn her face into his collar because she's laughing as her feet touch the floor. Jason smells good. Like expensive aftershave and gun oil. 

" _Yeah_ , I made brownies. And I think Alfred absconded with my brothers to the kitchen. This ain't exactly a kid friendly party." She keeps getting distracted by the warmth of Jason's hand on her waist. 

"I'll be sure to thank him for my toes then."

* * *

  
  
Jackie and her brothers stay the weekend at Wayne Manor, the snow so bad that the bridges all into the city have closed, Jackie would mind because of the loss of three days wages, but she gets New Years off with pay, it isn't too terrible.   
  
She spends a lot of it in the kitchen with Alfred, cooking. It's a quiet three days. Even crime seems to have hit a standstill because of the below zero temperatures.   
  
Jackie steals Jason's red hoodie to combat the prevalent cold and the first time Dick and Tim see her in it, up to her elbows kneading some kind of herbaceous bread, they start cackling.

  
Jason crashes in his old room the night of the party. Not by choice. The weather decided a freak blizzard was in order leaving Wayne Manor full of guests until NJDOT can dig them out. And while he might have been willing to brave the weather alone (unlike the idiots who did leave the property after the storm hit, Jason's got bat-tech to keep him from freezing to death) he's not about to leave the Escobars at the mercy of his family and miscellaneous society trolls.   
  
It's bewildering to wake up in the blinding winter dawn and be immediately reminded of his short tenure as Robin. He shoves his head under the pillows-- he's nocturnal, the sun should know better than to do this to him. But the bed is a full, close to uncomfortably small, and it's not going to get any better if he stays put. 

In the end it's the knowledge that he can raid the kitchen that gets him up and headed blindly for the shower. Wayne Manor never loses hot water in the winter-- that's definitely a plus over the safe houses. Somewhere between Jason avoiding being a person and luxuriating in his sauna of a shower, street clothes appear-- apparently Alfred won't let him be seen in a crumpled waist coat the day after a party. So he wears the waistcoat over his t-shirt and jeans to prove a point.  
  
The house is a mausoleum. The wings that aren't occupied haven't been heated yet and Jason has to step carefully from rug to rug to avoid the cold marble under his bare feet until he can find a servant's stair and finish the trek down to the kitchen.   
  
He digs around in the pantry for longer than he should before he remembers the coffee-- the good blend not the stuff for guests-- is in the cupboard on the south wall. Thankfully there are no staff around yet (although he doesn't doubt Alfred is lurking somewhere) to notice the mistake. 

Jackie comes padding into the kitchen shortly thereafter, sleep mussed and messy-- "Morning-" and eyes him with the bag of grounds-- "Please tell me you ain't gonna try and make coffee?"

Jason stops fishing around the miles of drawers for a spoon to dish the coffee out with-- a true adventure when done while trying to stay on the floor mats rather than suffer the cold stone. His hair is starting to dry, at all angles and a little fluffy. "I was just gonna eat the grounds right outta the bag but if you got any better ideas?" 

Jackie blinks and pads across the floor, ignoring the cold to pluck the bag out of his hand- "You weirdo. Get up I'll make a pot." All she can find is a fancy stove top percolator, which she takes down and begins prepping. 

"As you wish," he tells her and pushes himself up to sit on the counter beside the stove. It only really works to warm the left side of his body once the burner gets itself situated but it's better than nothing. "Hey, happy New Year, by the way. We made it through another one."

Jackie snorts- "You are not the dread pirate Roberts and I am _not_ Princess Buttercup.” She scoops grounds into the basket and fills the pot with water, "Happy New Year’s, Jay." 

"What're you talkin' about? Buttercup was awesome and I sure as shit ain't the Dread Pirate _Wesley_ , c'mon." He grins and whatever he's aiming to say next gets lost in an expansive yawn-- the compulsive stretch that comes with it ends in banging his funny bone into the cupboard behind him. "Damn it-- you think I could petition grounds to move these things down the wall three feet? They're a health hazard."

"Sure hotshot." She starts going through cupboard until she finds mugs and bread. Butter in a crystal dish on the counter. Fancy as hell- they keep theirs in a Tupperware container, she glances at him, cheeks pink and then starts laughing, "Graceful. You want toast?"

The jolt is slowly working its way out of his forearm. Fucking cabinets. They weren't in the way the last time he sat up there... ten years ago. He hops down from the counter, cracks his knuckles. "Nah, you worry about the coffee and let me throw breakfast together. I'm sure Alfred's got something recognizable down here."

She grins, "Awh, you gonna make me food for once?" She snickered, "Can you even cook?" She's teasing and-- not tall enough to reach the coffee mugs.

"Just this once- on accounta the holiday, yanno." He steps behind her to reach over her head for the mugs, hands them to her without quite leaving her space. "I mean, I'm no five star chef, but I can manage breakfast. You got any strong opinions on spinach?"  
  
He briefly considered apple-pear turnovers but baking is Jackie's arena and he doesn't wanna start a competition.

"I like it-" her voice breaks a little and she might shift back into the counter a little. Jason is incredibly warm and his shirt looks soft. He smells like soap and -"Im gonna get a shower today right? I mean- your uh...butler? Gave me some pjs but a girl can't wear 'em all weekend."

He's never seen Jackie outside of work, not really, since she's always going to or heading home from the pastry and the Gala hardly counts at all since both of them were too tense the whole night. This... this is nice. She's got this soft look to her and if he weren't already up and clean and cooking it'd be worth trying to convince her to go back to bed. The crack of dawn is too early to be awake and it's too cold to be in bed alone.   
  
It's a slightly bewildering gear shift, when he tunes back in to what she's saying. "Yeah, go ahead and shower whenever you want. I don't know where Alfred's stash of clothes is but he'll definitely magic up something for you to change into." 

It takes a hot second to get his bearings, to find the bits and pieces that make cooking much easier, but now that the coffee's on and he's got an end goal in mind he's all but bouncing on the balls of his feet in lieu of standing still. He sets the oven to preheat. Starts warming a pan for the bacon. Steals some oven-safe bowls from a drying rack. He goes with his gut and grabs them all-- better to get breakfast ready for the whole family and have leftovers than have anyone whining about being hungry.   
  
He keeps talking while the bacon fries, "I guess Alfred's our butler? It's definitely his job title but it's weird to think of him that way... he's equal parts family and omniscient benevolent deity of Wayne Manor. He raised Bruce, Dick, all of us-- I don't think he's ever allowed to retire. He's too important." 

Jackie is glad when he moves away. And she crawls onto a barstool and watches him bounce around the kitchen. She wants to crawl back into bed, but the beds are bigger than she's used to. She sniffs and says, "Magical. I like that you're all so close. It's nice. Makes me think of my own family. Only...with more fancy parties."

“I wouldn’t say we’re “close” but we’re definitely… _somethin’_ ,” he says, stuffing the bottoms of the dozen bowls he’s set out with spinach and leftover sliced onion. “ I’m not really the gala type. Last night’s the first one I made an appearance at since I was a kid. See, I heard this pastry chef from the Narrows was goin’, a real beautiful girl with holly in her hair and freckles, and I couldn’t stay away. But you can’t tell anyone— if it gets out I turned up _willingly_ my reputation’s gonna be ruined.” 

Jackie nodded and when the coffee finished, poured them both cups. Which was around when the other Wayne siblings began trickling into the kitchen. If Jackie knew her brothers, they wouldn’t be far behind. It looked like nobody in this family understood that snow days were for sleeping in. 

She put on a kettle to make hot cocoa for her brothers and Damian, who she pulled the coffee out of the reach of with a stern look, “It’ll stunt your growth.”

Ironic, since Damian looked like he took after his father in the size department, even if he was about Marco’s size at the moment. Not that Jackie’s brothers were slouches in that area. God, she was surrounded by giant freaks of nature.

“Sit.” 

Damian grumbled something but did as instructed, to which both Dick and Tim shared a startled look, Dick stifling a yawn behind one hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this is mostly just context to set up an AU of this particular AU later down the line. Let it never be said that we're not prolific...

**Author's Note:**

> We neither beta'd nor in any way edited this but y'all oughtta be nice to us anyway. Your comments make the world go 'round.


End file.
